Ghosts of War- Part I: Widow
by Fettkat
Summary: Part I of a two fic series. About how it's always the innocents who get caught in the cross-fire of senseless war and people are changed forever. Takes place in the direct aftermath of the Second Galactic Civil War i.e. the LOTF series.


_**[A/N: This will be a short series of two fics posted separately as Parts I and II. Both are set just after the end of the LOTF series in the aftermath of the Second Galactic Civil War. Expect an overload of angst so keep tissues handy! **_

_**This one is dedicated in the memory of one of the bravest (though minor) characters in the LOTF series: GAG Captain Lon Shevu. ]**_

Ben Skywalker stood in the dimly lit hallway, fidgeting uncertainly. He had been about to hit the door alarm a number of times, but had hesitated at the last instant, every time. He had been here before. It had been a place of refuge for him for a short period, at a time he had been hiding dangerous secrets, afraid to face up to his own father. He had enjoyed its occupants' gracious hospitality more than once. Which was why he felt himself obliged to be here today.  
_What will I say?_ he thought in desperation.  
What could he possibly have to say?

* * *

The door in front of the young man led to the apartment which had once belonged to Captain Lon Shevu of the Galactic Alliance Guard, the elite secret police force that had been created by his late elder cousin, Colonel Jacen Solo, lately known as Darth Caedus. Ben had been a junior lieutenant in the GAG and Shevu had been his superior officer. The two had become close friends, Shevu feeling protective towards the young teen and secretly disapproving his having been inducted at such a young age. Shevu had been the commanding officer when Ben had been deputed on his first real mission: the assassination of the then Corellian Prime Minister, Dur Gejjen. That mission had also seen Jori Lekauf, another GAG lieutenant and one of Ben's closest comrades on the force, sacrifice his life so that Ben and Shevu could escape from Vulpter where the assassination had taken place.

Ben remembered clearly the look on his captain's face when he'd contemplated having to tell Lekauf's parents about the loss of their son, and now he realized exactly what had brought that look onto Shevu's face. Today he had come to pay a similar visit, to Shevu's wife of barely a few months, Shula, and offer her his condolences on the death of her husband, killed by torture to force Ben to talk, at the hands of Caedus' Sith lackey and former Jedi Knight, Tahiri Veila.

Ben kneaded his forehead. What would he tell Shula? That he'd never avenged her husband, his friend's death, even though he had been in a position to do so? That instead he had redeemed his murderer and brought her back from the dark side and allowed her to be forgiven by all? Shevu had risked his own life and reputation to help him hunt down his mother's killer. But could he have returned the favour by striking down a fellow Jedi? She might have strayed even further than him down the dark path, but Ben had been able to sympathize with her. Tahiri, after all, had taken his own place at Caedus' side. How long had he too remained blinded by his trust in Jacen, allowing him to twist his conceptions of right and wrong, manipulate him to essentially carry out his own dark plans, even try to turn him against his own family? And Tahiri had once loved Anakin, Jacen's own younger brother.  
Ben felt bitter bile rise in his throat. That Jacen could manipulate familial affiliations so casually... it made him feel sick.

But Shula wasn't a Force-sensitive. She couldn't be expected to understand his Jedi logic. She was an ordinary person, entitled to seek vengeance for wrongs committed upon her or her family, without fear of falling to the dark side. He couldn't blame her. He'd desperately craved revenge for his mother's death till only a few months ago. Caedus had been instrumental in destroying his life as well. Perhaps he could draw strength from that thread joining their destinies. Their families and the course of their lives had been irrevocably altered by Sith.

* * *

When he finally plucked up enough courage to bite the bullet and buzz the alarm, he barely recognized the haggard face that came to the door. Shula looked a mess, her hair and clothes completely rumpled and dishevelled, her eyes bloodshot and swollen, indicating loss of sleep alongwith the fact that she had been crying a lot. She didn't seem to recognize him, at first.  
"Ummm... Mrs. Shevu...Shula? It's- it's Ben. Ben Skywalker. I-I worked with your husband..."  
Recognition finally seemed to flicker in the depths of her haunted eyes and she gave a small nod, ushering him inside.

The apartment itself looked as though it had been turned inside out. Shula had obviously been packing everything up. It was a far cry from the last time he'd visited his friend here. All traces of Shula's presence had been removed at the time, leaving it rather bare, and Lon had packed her off to her parents' on Vaklin in order to keep her safe were his infiltration to be discovered.

Ben stepped cautiously over packing boxes and scattered reams of plastape and foam packing. Shula cleared a bit of the sofa so he could have a place to sit but remained standing herself. So far she hadn't said a word and Ben's level of discomfort and awkwardness had only increased with every passing second.

He cleared his throat, attempting to break the tension slowly building up in the room between them.  
"Ma'am...I-I just want you know how sorry I am for your loss."  
Instantly, he winced at just how hollow those words sounded in his own ears.  
In the aftermath of his own mother's death, he had come to a new understanding of just how inadequate the word "sorry" could be. No amount of "sorry" could ever soothe the aching wound that pulsed within when a beloved family member was so brutally ripped away from you.

Ben looked at Shula Shevu, his heart bleeding for her, but unable to express it in the right words.  
She looked vacant for a moment, then seated herself slowly on a packing case.  
"They- they didn't tell me how he died..."  
Her voice was dry and hoarse and curiously lifeless.  
"They...told me he'd gone bravely, like a soldier should... with honour."  
The vibroblade of acute guilt twisted in Ben's heart a little more.  
"He did, ma'am."  
Ben swallowed, but forced himself to look into her eyes.  
_Brown eyes. As brown as Jacen's had been...once upon a time. A very long time ago._  
He knew he owed her the truth.

"He died for me, Ma'am."  
His confession came out in a barely intelligible mumble as that awful memory hit once more and he had to fight to keep his own tears from his eyes, to be brave for this woman.  
He rubbed at his nose, calling on rapidly crumbling inner reserves of calm and keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the bare synthwood floor gradually blearying in his vision.  
He drew in a deep and shuddering breath.  
She didn't respond, but Ben could feel the question hanging in the air between them. He glanced up to see a small spark of curiosity flickering in her otherwise lifeless eyes.  
"For you?" she repeated slowly.

Ben heaved a deep sigh, then, with a gigantic force of will, looked directly into Shula's eyes. She was briefly startled at how hollow and old his seemed.  
"Yes, Shula. We were both held for interrogation aboard the _Anakin Solo_, and they were torturing me. When I refused to co-operate, they brought him in, threatened to torture him until I broke. He-he told me to stay strong, not to tell them anything...but..."  
He felt a giant lump in his throat threaten to choke him.  
"The-the last bit... was too much. He-he suffered a heart attack. He died, Shula, he-he..."  
It was too much. His hands were shaking as he cradled his own head and sobbed.

Shula hadn't uttered a word or made a sound. After a while, when he felt himself calm down a little, Ben looked up at the bereaved widow. She was sitting motionless, still as a statue, her mouth slightly open, her eyes unseeing.  
"Sh-Shula?" he stammered.  
"Mrs. Shevu? Are-are you alright?"  
_Had it been too much? Was it the shock?_  
Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times. Ben staggered up from the couch and stumbled over to her. He knelt in front of her, reaching out for her hand. She didn't appear to even have noticed.  
Finally, he was able to make out a barely audible question.  
"Who did this to him? Who tortured my Lon?"  
Ben swallowed again, turning away slightly, unable to face her any longer.  
"Caedus's apprentice. Tahiri Veila."  
This time she actually looked at him.  
"Jedi?"  
Ben shook his head uncertainly.  
"No- not exactly...anymore. She- He- Caedus, that is- manipulated her into joining him, tried to turn her to the dark side."  
"Is she dead?"  
Shula's question was chilly.  
Again, Ben shook his head, his discomfort increasing.  
"No. No, she's not."  
"What happened to her?"  
The widow's tone left no doubt as to what she would have wished to have happened to her. Ben's head hurt from his constant dilemma and conflicting emotions. He felt like a giant mass of pain inside.  
"I-I brought her back to our side, Shula. To the light. She wasn't completely gone yet. She- she regretted what she did to Lon, I could feel it. That's how I knew. There was still some good left in her. Something worth redeeming. I-I convinced her to leave C-Caedus, to come back to the Jedi..."

Ben trailed off. Somewhere in the depths of Shula's eyes a fire had been lit. She now stared at him with a look of undisguised horror etched upon her face. She snatched back her hand from his, as though repulsed by his very touch and stood suddenly, upsetting an uneven stack of holozines beside them. Neither of them noticed the clatter with which they fell. Ben was staring at her, utterly thrown by her sudden reaction.  
"Jedi," she snarled.  
"You-you damned... _Jedi_!"  
She back-pedalled a few steps amidst the clutter as Ben, too, slowly rose to his feet.  
"Lon was your _friend_, your-your _captain_! He- he _died_ for you! Didn't that mean anything to you... _Jedi_?! Why do you think everyone has to be redeemed?! You could have _finished _ this!"  
Ben's brows drew together, even though it had taken him a second to realize what it was she was implying.  
"I'm sorry, Shula," he shook his head gravely, "Revenge is not our way. We do not kill out of spite. I would not have spared Tahiri unless I was sure she had been repentant about Lon's death."  
"Lon was a good man! We- we were going to be happy! He _promised _ he'd come back!"

Shula was raving, near-hysterical by now. Ben tried to make his way through all the stuff strewn on the floor, hoping she didn't try to do anything stupid. Shula stumbled over a shoe, lying by a door and fell to her knees. Ben rushed to her side. She grabbed the shoe and clutched it to her chest, breaking down and keening over it. Ben stroked her back, trying to hush her, his own heart close to breaking at the sight of her bereavement. For just a moment, he was able to even forget his own painful loss and focus on another's.  
She was mumbling his name as she cried, clinging onto the shoe Ben belatedly recognized as part of Captain Shevu's bolo-ball gear. Tentatively he wrapped his arm around her and was grateful when Shula didn't instinctively spurn him.  
"He didn't deserve this. Didn't deserve_ any _ of this! We-we hadn't even had our honeymoon yet..." she sobbed.

Ben was too choked up to speak, but somehow he still heard his own voice, coming as though from lightyears away, strangely flat and devoid of emotion.  
"I lost my mom too, Shula. This war has just torn away so much from our family, I can barely recognize it anymore."  
He sat down on heavily on the floor beside her.  
"The universe has stopped making sense. Now it's just pain pain pain. I'm too afraid to even look my own father in the eyes, even though I know he needs me, now more than ever. I don't recognize myself when I look in the mirror in the mornings. Captain Shevu, he always told me I was too young to have joined the war. I used to think he didn't understand. But now I think he was right. I wish all these realizations didn't come when it's too late. He- he helped me track Jacen down, risked his life to record his confession that it was really him, really my brother who had murdered my mother. Helped me prove it to my own family. He taught me so much, things that help, things I can use, in-in the field. 'Shevu-isms' we used to call them, on the force. He taught me to be more than a Jedi, to think clearly in a crisis, to get the job done. And now, I'll never be able to thank him."

A silent stream of tears was coursing its way down his cheek. He hadn't realized that Shula had stopped sobbing and was actually listening to him, sniffling quietly.  
"He wasn't looking forward to telling Jori's folks when he died. I could never have imagined I would have to someday do the same for him."  
He turned to face the woman, his captain's bereaved wife, and tried to give her a watery smile. She was looking at him curiously.  
"Jori," she said softly, as though remembering something.  
"He told me about him. He died for you too, didn't he?"

Ben looked away, a fiery sword plunging into his heart at the words.  
_Yes he did. And Mom, too._  
He hadn't expected to have so much blood on his hands so soon.

He struggled to his feet and reached down a hand to help Shula to hers. She simply stared at it uncomprehendingly.  
"I should be going now, ma'am," Ben said quietly, straightening and brushing his jacket.  
"Once again, my deepest sympathies for your loss."  
"And yours," she responded, just as softly. He didn't know which one she meant. He had lost so much in the war, he had failed to keep count.

He nodded and took his leave, glancing back just once to see her brown eyes following him out the door.  
Just before he stepped out the door, though, he heard her voice for the last time.  
"I'm glad I'm not a Jedi. Atleast I can hate the memory of his killer in peace."  
Ben stopped, but didn't turn, breathing in to control the involuntary shiver that raced up his spine at her words. Then he pulled his jacket tighter around him and walked quickly away.

* * *

That night he walked all the way back home, his head buzzing as if from overload. Nothing from around him registered on his senses and he bumped into pedestrians several times. The Force seemed to have gone silent.  
He let himself in, the Skywalkers' apartment empty and dark, and cried, really cried, rocking himself back and forth on the bed. He didn't know where his Dad was. Perhaps at Aunt Leia's. He was glad he wasn't there. Tonight he wanted to be alone.  
He cried for everything and everyone he had lost: for his Mom, and that part of his Dad that had died with her; for Jori and Captain Shevu; for Jacen, the _real_ Jacen; and lastly, his innocence. None of them would ever return. Everything had changed, and they would never be the same again.

Finally he felt his tears run out, heaving with nothing left to flow. He stood up then, more a man at fourteen than most are at forty, and left the apartment to look for a tapcaf in the middle of the night.

** THE END**

**_[ A/N: The ending sort of ties up with the scene set at the beginning of my long-fic "Myri and Me" (for those who have read that one)._**  
**_I've kinda always blamed Tahiri more for Shevu's death than Pellaeon's in LOTF, and in FOTJ, with the whole fuss made about her trial for killing the old admiral, I couldn't help but feel sad at how this tragic loss had been overlooked. If she had to suffer for anyone's death, in my opinion, it should have been for this one. ]_**


End file.
